The four times Timothy almost called Shelagh 'mum'
by thedancinggallifreyan
Summary: And the one time he did. Spoilers for episode 3.3!


**I am not a writer. I am well aware that this is probably terrible. But I've been dying to write this for a week so I am. Hopefully it's not as terrible as I think.**

**I'm not sure I got my dates for Mrs. Turner's death right, but I'm going by 2012 Christmas Special was a little under one year, and episode five being a few months after that, but I could be terribly off.**

**I know it's freaking cheesy at times but I just really love Shelagh and Timothy's relationship.**

**1.**

The first time Timothy wanted to call Shelagh "Mum" she wasn't Shelagh. She was Sister Bernadette. It was after his father had bailed on him for the three-legged race, rushing off the a call. Timothy hadn't even gone looking for a partner, just stood off to the side, staring wistfully as the pairs tied their ankles together.

But Sister Bernadette, observant and caring as she was, had noticed. She made her way over to Timothy and said that she'd love to run the race with him, provided he didn't mind that she hadn't practiced like Doctor Turner had.

Timothy was elated that they won, and that his dad had made it back in time to see them. Sister Bernadette had scraped her hand when they fell across the finish line, and when Timothy turned around to thank her after receiving congratulations from his friends, she was gone.

Later, as he and his father were leaving, Timothy saw her. She looked a little tired, but Timothy ran to her and threw his arms around her waist. That was when it almost slipped out. He nearly called her "mum"- though he had not a clue as to why. She wasn't his mother. She wasn't anyone's mother. She was just a nun who was kind to him- helping him win the race, cleaning his wounds, keeping him company when he was stuck at the clinic waiting for his dad.

"Thanks- thanks Sister Bernadette," Timothy said, tripped over his words slightly as he hid his mistake.

"You're welcome Timothy," she responded whilst returning his enthusiastic hug gently.

Later, during the car ride home, his dad brought the hug up.

"You need to ask permission before hug someone Tim," he instructed, "especially a nun." He said the last part like he was trying to joke, but his voice came out serious.

"Okay, but Sister Bernadette doesn't mind," Timothy insisted, "she's so nice and always likes talking to me."

His dad gave a small nod in response. Timothy could tell his mind was on other things, probably a patient, so he sat back and thought to his near-slip up. Why had he almost done that? He made a quick comparison between Sister Bernadette and what he remembered of his mum. Aside from the fact they were both kind to him, they really weren't alike at all. His mum spent most of her time at home, reading and keeping her garden, while Sister Bernadette was busy as a nun and a midwife. His mum was tall, Sister Bernadette short. His mum was outgoing, and not exactly loud, but energetic. Sister Bernadette was friendly to everyone she came across, but in a softer, gentler way.

Timothy dismissed his thoughts. He didn't know why the word almost slipped out his mouth. But maybe, just maybe, if he were to have another mum, a new mum, he'd like someone like Sister Bernadette.

**2.**

The second time was less accidental. Timothy's dad told him he was going to propose to Shelagh- that is the former Sister Bernadette- and Timothy asked if he could draw a picture to go with the ring. Timothy's dad then offered to let him write down the actual proposal on his drawing, and then wrap the ring inside of it.

So there he sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out what to write.

He thought about "will you please be my new mum?" But was it okay to call her that? She wasn't even his dad's fiance yet, let alone his stepmum. And what if she said no? What if seeing "mum" written down scared her and she wouldn't accept because of it?

He dithered around, scribbling the phrase, then deciding against it, crumpling the paper up and throwing it away. He did this a few times before sighing in frustration. He wanted her to know that the note was from him and that he wanted her in their family, but he also didn't want to overstep his boundaries, like his dad so often warned him of.

Finally he came up with the perfect note, writing it down and decorating it with a few clouds.

"Don't mess up," he said to his dad when he handed him the wrapped ring.

"Here's hoping," his dad replied.

**3.**

The third time he lay in a hospital bed. He struggled for breath as he lay curled on the bed, the doctors doing who-knows-what to his back. He weakly opened his eyes when he heard her voice, talking to the nurse. She sounded so worried, but he couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.

He as his vision focused he could see how she was trying not to cry. His hearing sharpened as he heard the nurse say that since she wasn't his mother she'd have to leave. She gave an encouraging smile as she leaned in to tell him she'd be around the corner. He tried to open his mouth to talk, to say that she was his mum and that he wanted- needed her there. He wanted to apologize for ruining the wedding, for getting sick. But he couldn't swallow, couldn't clear his throat to let the words out. As this she became distraught, and the nurse escorted her from the small surgical room. That was the last thing he remembered before drifting out of consciousness.

**4.**

The fourth time came on the day of the wedding. Right after the ceremony they made their way to the spare hall for a short dinner reception. Timothy, as the best man, sat at the head table while waiting for the bride and groom to come in. He wanted to stand at in front of the doors like the others and wait, but his legs were hurting from standing for the whole ceremony.

At last the pair made their way into the hall. The well-wishers yelled their congrats as they moved through the crowd up to the table where Timothy sat. When they got there Timothy's dad was quickly ambushed by Sister Monica Joan, who was giving some sort of advice for the newly married man. As Shelagh moved to her seat Timothy stood up.

"Mum", he wanted to say. He wanted to welcome her to their family in the best way he knew how. But the word caught in his throat. It didn't feel right to let the word go for the first time in the crowded banquet hall, in front of all these people. Here she was still a new bride. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable on his dad and her's day.

So instead he walked to her as she smiled at him, and slowly gave her a gentle hug.

"I'm so happy you're a part of our family now," he said.

"Me too," she replied, pulling back from the hug and looking Timothy in the face. She went to pull out the chair on the end opposite of Timothy.

"Auntie Shelagh," Timothy said hesitantly.

"Yes Timmy?"

"Will you sit in the middle," he quietly asked.

"Of course," she said with a smile. Timothy pulled the chair out for her and she took her seat. When Timothy's dad finally was able to escape from Sister Monica Joan's monologue he saw the two sitting together next to each other and gave Timothy a questioning look. Timothy smiled in response. This was a new adventure.

**5.**

When it finally happened it wasn't on purpose. Timothy's dad and Shelagh had been married a few months. Their little family was working together nicely. Timothy would come home to Shelagh, who had always made him a health snack, and chat for a few minutes about his day. Then he would work on his homework while Shelagh sewed, or did laundry, or started making dinner. Later his dad would get home and they'd have dinner, then they'd sit in the family room, doing quiet tasks alone or together until it was time for bed, though often his dad would get calls and have to leave before Timothy went to bed. When that happened Shelagh would ask him to read aloud from whatever science book he was looking through that week, knowing that he loved sharing whatever new knowledge he could find.

He knew she worked in the mornings, and at the clinics on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but it was great not coming home to an empty house every day, or putting himself to bed at night.

Their routine was interrupted when Shelagh had to go to a special doctor for an operation. His dad didn't go into details, but said it had something to do with making sure she was still okay after having TB.

Timothy hadn't been able to pay attention at school at all the day of the operation. After school he sat at home, worried the whole time. He had just gotten this new mother. He loved her and didn't want to lose her. He didn't want his dad to lose her either. He was terrified of things going back to the way they were.

Eventually his dad came home and told him that everything would be fine. She was a little weak and had to stay at the hospital overnight, and would stay in bed for the next week.

In that week every day Timothy came home he'd make a pot of tea and take it up to her. They'd sit and talk for a couple minutes before Timothy made his way back downstairs to do his homework.

The first day Shelagh was allowed out of bed Timothy came home to the smelled of fresh-baked biscuits. He dropped his bag and made his way into the kitchen, where he saw a tray of snickerdoodles. He loved snickerdoodles, but hadn't had them in years because of how often his dad burned them.

"Ah you're home," he turned and saw Shelagh walk in the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, "I made snickerdoodles! Your father told me how much you used to like them and I wanted to thank you for keeping me such good company this week."

"Thanks mum!" he responded, giving her a quick hug. He dropped his book bag in a chair, telling Shelagh he'd just run to the loo and then he'd enjoy the biscuits and tea she'd made.

It was on his way to the loo that he realized what he'd said. It had come out without him thinking about it. He hoped everything was okay.

When he came back from the loo he started pouring himself some tea before he noticed Shelagh was silently crying, although trying her best to hide it. Was this because of him calling her mum? Had he scared her? He struggling trying to start his sentence, not wanting to call her "Auntie Shelagh" again, but feeling like he'd make it worse if he called her "mum".

"Are you crying?" he at last managed.

"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation.

"Is it because I called you mum?" Timothy finally ventured. Shelagh gave a little nod and opened her mouth to speak before Timothy cut her off, "I'm sorry! It- I didn't want to scare you but you are like my mum- I mean if you want to be. You don't have to-"

"No my dear Timothy," Shelagh cut him off, "I'm crying because, well because I'm so happy you see me that way. That you want to call me mum. That you see me as your mum."

"Of course I do," Timothy said, "you're a great mum."

At this Shelagh started crying harder. Timothy put his arm around her as she tried to compose herself.

"Oh Timothy," she said, "I've been so scared this past week, that you would never see me as your mum."

"Why this past?" he questioned.

"Because," she swallowed as her tears slowed, "I found out from the operation I had, that I won't ever be able to get pregnant."

Timothy was shocked. He had to admit that he was greatly saddened by the fact that he'd never get a little sibling- something that he was looking forward to. But he tried not to let it show as Shelagh continued.

"Of course your father and I love you so much, but even though I love you like my own son, I wasn't sure I'd ever be a real mother to someone," she let out with shaky breaths.

Timothy gave her a tight hug. "I've wanted to call you mum for such a long time," he said, "but I was scared you wouldn't want me as a son."

Shelagh let out a laugh. "Now see," she said as she pulled back from the hug, "we were both so worried for nothing."

Timothy nodded, and that was the end of that.

**Epilogue**

"Hello there little Michelle," Timothy said to the squirming newborn, "my name's Timothy. I'm your big brother."

The girl cooed and reached out to her brother before yawning and burrowing back in his arms.

"You're so lucky Michelle. You'll always be looked after," Timothy whispered, making sure not to keep her awake, "Dad's a doctor. Yeah it means sometimes he has to leave your play to call on a patient, but he always makes it up. And Mum, well Mum's a nurse, and a midwife. She had three of her midwife friends in the delivery room with her, helping bring you into the world. Then there were the nuns- she used to be one a long time ago- they were making sure Dad stayed sane while you were being born. And Mum's a great cook. She tries to make sure we eat healthy, but her healthy food is way better than Dad's. And she's great at fixing you up when you fall and skin your knee. And I can help you in school, learning how to read and do math and stuff."

Michelle let out another little yawn and Timothy smiled at the sight.

"Welcome to the family Michelle," he said, "you've been prayed for for a long time."

Timothy didn't see behind his back, his parents- who were supposed to be sleeping, tearing up at the sight of their beloved son and new daughter. So many dreams had come true.

**The end! Yay for cheesiness. But we need it after Sunday's episode.**

**I have no idea if churches in London in the 1950's have banquet halls but churches in the southern US in the 1990's do so I went with that.**

**Also do kids like snickerdoodles? I haven't a clue.**

**Sorry for any other inaccuracies, but it's nearly two thirty in the morning, and I am American, so if you see any random "y'all"s or equally odd dialect in this, ignore it (I almost published this whole fic with "biscuits" as "cookies" but I caught myself)**

**Please review! I'm opened to any honest feedback**


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